


Beneath the Spin

by visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Series: Shifting Alliances 'Verse [8]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25950913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: Secret handholding in the laundry room. Set in the Shifting Alliances Universe, during the events from the episode "Works Of Mercy". (Originally posted elsewhere in 2006.)
Relationships: Miguel Alvarez/Ryan O'Reily
Series: Shifting Alliances 'Verse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862302
Kudos: 7





	Beneath the Spin

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: non-graphic mention in conversation of a canonical rape. As always with this show, there's a possibility of graphic language, and racist and homophobic slurs.
> 
> For pixelarious.

News traveled in two main ways in Oz -- like viciously graphic and embroidered gossip in a fucking high school, spreading fast and far; and like ghost whispers. Some things stayed buried and only hinted at. Those were usually the more truthful things. The rumors that spread, well, they got twisted and changed along the way. Some of 'em didn't contain a grain of truth at all, ever. Some were engineered. Miguel Alvarez knew all about that type, had been behind plenty of them himself lately.

Sensationalistic things, like the rape of the resident pretty Doctor, usually traveled fast and loud in that first way. But when it came to her…her tales mingled with O'Reily's. And he kept his locked down tight. Most tales about Ryan O'Reily traveled the slow, subversive way. Miguel knew firsthand about that, too. He knew that there were some that would never reach anyone's ears.

It didn't take long for the whispering hints of possible charges against O'Reily to reach Miguel's ears, though. It probably helped that he had been working in the hospital ward, the home of the featured female player who had just returned. And Miguel was always listening for info on Ryan. 

**

When Miguel got back from work duty, the O'Reily brothers were hanging close to each other in the laundry room. He had scoped them out, secretive and cautious. He could see it, the weight in the room, even through glass and distance. 

He was the only one really looking at the quiet scene. To everyone else, the fucking Micks were just doing laundry. But Miguel saw their backs, side by side, faces tilting towards each other. Knew something important was being said. Something necessary. 

Something he shouldn't intrude on. 

Miguel had the knowledge of the not-yet-spread rumors in his head, though. He gathered up his dirty clothes slowly, his stride across the quad even more languid. His measured pace meant that by the time he entered the laundry room the moment was gone. Both brothers were facing the dryers, just watching the clothes spin and tumble over each other, looking quietly solemn but relaxed. Whatever it was, was resolved, then. Good. 

Miguel loudly announced his presence with the whoosh of the door, balancing his basket on his cocked hip as he strode into the room.

At the noise, Ryan's body regained whatever tension the presence of his brother had drained out of him. Miguel searched Ryan's face for anything telling him to fuck off, but saw nothing but weariness that called him closer. He set up at the washer next to Ryan, as Cyril stayed watching the spin of the dryer. Miguel hid his surprise and worry at Ryan's face. Short, bloody scratches across his cheek and jaw, Ryan's lip was just a little swollen and split. Miguel would have to wait to find out the whole story, to be able reach out and touch.

One of the dryers buzzed and Ryan gestured to it, talking to Cyril while Miguel played the expected role for their public. Alvarez was just doing laundry. So was O'Reily. If they talked, it was to pass the time and maybe conduct business.

The brothers jumped down from their washers, as Ryan opened the door of the finished dryer and set about unloading it, tossing clothes to Cyril to put in their basket. Miguel could almost feel the fresh warmth radiating from them, smell the industrial perfume clean, as he sorted through his own dirty clothes.

"Yo, Cyril. Feel like taking these to our pod while I wait for the rest?" 

"I can do that, Ryan." He looked annoyed that it was even a question, the underestimated little kid face Miguel knew well from his own sisters.

"I know. Just stay where Murphy can see you." Ryan ordered, and Cyril just rolled his eyes at the warning and left, hefting the basket easily, showing off his strength in the way he moved. He was learning, since the boxing matches.

Miguel was welcome, then, even if Ryan's overall demeanor held a little of the walking dead. He was buying them time alone, and that said enough. So did Ryan perching back on top of the washer right next to his with a heavy thump, Ryan's boots banging into hollow metal as he resumed his hypnotised watch of the spinning clothes. 

"You okay, Ryan?" Miguel murmured, keeping all his concern hidden from everyone but the object of its focus as he flipped the lid of his washer up, watching the water rush in, paying more attention to the sound of breath beside him. 

One pale hand reached out, slipping over the rim of the washer, bracing there, shielded from outside view by the open lid. Miguel moved without thinking about it, covering Ryan's hand with his own, feeling the immediate warmth of him on the cool metal. He saw Ryan's long blink and deep breath out of the corner of his eye, felt the ghost tremor of Ryan's hand under his, but no more than that. He wasn't going to answer. He was going to keep a stone face. And if Miguel hadn't heard what he'd heard and seen Doctor Nathan's return to the Ward, he'd be confused about that haunted look. But he knew what was up, and just wanted to…do something. Help ease it like Cyril had, even if he didn't know exactly what was going on.

"So, you fucking confessed to ordering Gloria's rape." Miguel stated mildly, to see how his words affected the other man. He used her first name, watching Ryan closely out of the corner of his eye. Using her last name, making her just the Doc and not Ryan's Gloria, would make it easier for Ryan to compartmentalize his feelings and hide his tells.

"Yes." Ryan's face was stiff and still. Blank. Dead. A pale, hard man with the life drained out of him. The shocking red blood raising from the scratches on his cheek, and from that split lip, crusting and breaking anew with every breath and word, contrasted the zombie look with their vivid proof of life. 

Miguel didn't need tells for this part really; he just knew. And the fact that he had known the charges were false as soon as he'd heard them, just _felt it_ in his bones, with no evidence of the lie and plenty of past evidence of what the Irishman was capable of, was a little freaky in and of itself. Trust -- belief in something good in someone, that's how you always ended up screwed. But that feeling, that trust, couldn't be changed, so Miguel accepted it like the bars and grey walls around them. He knew that even though the news said Ryan confessed, that Ryan hadn't done it. But he didn't know _why_ Ryan had lied.

Best to just start solidly thumping against Ryan's wall and see what shook loose.

"You didn't have dick to do with that."

Miguel kept his watchful stare steady long enough that Ryan shook his head and refuted Miguel's declaration. 

"I did it." It came out in that same hard, hollow voice. Businesslike and resigned, without weakness. 

It reminded Miguel of standing up in court and addressing a judge from the wrong side of the aisle, when you knew the sentence was a forgone conclusion and it didn't matter what you said. Ryan turned away from the meditative swirl of the clothes to stare at Miguel, finally. Same dark, hard look. "I called a guy I know on the outside, ordered him to do it. He did."

"Liar." Miguel said it quietly, no more than a low rasp, because if Ryan was going this far with it, to try to lie to _him_ here, then clearly O'Reily really didn't want the truth getting out. It was an easy rebuke, almost amused. Because Miguel _knew_ , and Ryan was a fucking idiot if he thought he could fool Miguel with any of his shit now.

Ryan stared him down, with that worn-out look in his eyes, like he just wanted to be laid to rest. "Gloria believes that I did it. That's why she came back so fucking fast. She knows it was me." It was a recitation of facts, not a confession, as he wore Ryan down so easily. Because Ryan wanted him to, probably.

Miguel gave the hand beneath his a squeeze, and let his eyes repeat what his voice didn't need to. 

Liar. 

Ryan's hand finally moved, warm calloused fingers threading with his. Ryan looked away, head dipping down, but he didn't turn away enough to keep Miguel from seeing the ghostly upward tug of his lips. The first signs of life, of the real Ryan, since Cyril had left, as that tension bled out of the body near Miguel's a little more again. No other outward sign, Miguel just knew.

Ryan spoke to the ground, just as quiet. "Gloria needs to know that I did it. I owe her that. I'm being charged." Ryan looked up, and his eyes were no longer as haunted and dead, but they were just as steely. "Don't say otherwise to anybody else, mi cielo. You hear me? I did it. You keep what you know to yourself." 

Miguel nodded slowly, the side of his finger languidly rubbing against that little callous right there on Ryan's finger, unconsciously, over and over. All he could touch with those fucking glass walls. Just enough to know it was real and it was Ryan.

But as important as this sounded to Ryan, and as much as Miguel himself wanted the good Doctor to heal -- "You _will_ fucking be charged and they'll nail your ass if you confessed. They don't care if you did it or not." Miguel warned gruffly, the fact that he wasn't keen on letting that happen clear in his voice as his own hard-as-nails gaze stayed on Ryan.

Ryan grinned a little again. It was fucking dark, but real enough that it didn't bother Miguel. "Yeah, five whole fucking years, Miguel."

The bitter humor was clear without Ryan saying anything else. Didn't need to. Maybe he couldn't bring himself to. It stayed unspoken: five years might matter in terms of Miguel's sentence, but not Ryan's. 

Miguel shifted the subject just enough to avoid anything painful, with another warm slipping clench of the hand in his. Which one of them tightened their grasp first, he didn't know or care. He expertly hid a shiver at the scrape of a blunt nail over the palm of his hand. Ryan faced his still drying clothes behind Miguel, while Miguel was turned towards his own washer, and they were close enough to face each other just fine.

"She the one that tore you up?" Miguel smirked, gesturing with his free hand. He could tell Ryan was okay, all things considered. 

They were still separated by that open washer, and Miguel was taking forever to load his clothes into the roiling swish of the water in front of him. He twisted a knob and made an annoyed face at it, putting on a one-act play entitled _'My Shitty Malfunctioning Washer Is Pissing Me Off'_ for the rest of Emcity. He was really twisting the knobs and pressing buttons to slow things down himself. Anything intimate and real was hidden from view.

Ryan's free hand handled his own stage business, wryly running his fingers over his cheek. "Yeah."

Miguel's hand twitched against Ryan's. Couldn't touch. 

"The Doctor's got some fucking claws on her, man." Miguel said, somewhat impressed, even through his concern. "Good for her." Miguel knew that Ryan had let her, to make her feel better. That was something Miguel understood.

Ryan laughed softly, and that was just real enough in the dark, too. That zombie toughness was shed for the reality Ryan only showed him and Cyril. "Real fucking concerned for my well-being there." 

Miguel squeezed Ryan's hand in his again. _Yes, I am. And there ain't nothing either of us can fucking do about that._

***  
End

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last of the old Shifting 'Verse ficlets I found floating around elsewhere for now (all my personal files have been lost). I think this may be all there was posted out there set in this universe, but I could've missed something.
> 
> I am toying with the idea of rewatching Oz for the first time in forever, though, and I've been getting inspired by that and other things. It looks like there's a slight possibility I might write new fic set in the Shifting 'Verse before too long. Given that I haven't written in this 'verse, or AT ALL, in over a decade, this is possibly ill-advised. We'll see.


End file.
